A Year In Time
Prologue: 26 Months Away.
The sounds of gunshots and yelling filled up the air. Soldiers from both sides of war ran without direction. It was like hell sprang to life, and they were in the middle of it. Among the chaos, one solider stood still, gun clutched tightly in his hand.
Explosions sounding in the distance put the young man on edge. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickled, senses sharp. Wide eyed, the solider spun around quickly, trying to pinpoint the bombers site. The uniform and gun were the only two things helping him blend in. His dark brown eyes danced around the scenery with fear, handsome face contorted with worry lines.
Another blast sounded, this time off in a different direction. He twisted around again, searching. It seemed the world around him was closing in. Both sides of war collided, bodies strewn on the ground. A bullet whizzed by the private's head but it went unnoticed. The young man was too busy watching the sky light up.
One by one, each section of the sky seemed to explode. It started off in the west, coloring the sky with a fiery cloud of red and orange. Next, the south went, then the north, and lastly west. The sound of it all was deafening, yet he seemed to be the only one to notice. Gun long since forgotten, it dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
His attention was stolen from the sky nearly as soon as it was given. Letting out a sharp cry, the solider jumped up from his spot. The ground felt like it was on fire. He could feel the burning sensation run up his feet. The heat traveled quickly, causing him to double over in pain. It spread up his legs, to his left hip. His eyes were clenched right as he dropped down to his knees.
The flames were invisible, yet they stuck him with such intensity. The battle around him never ceased, no one looking twice as their comrade collapsed. He yelped for help, but with no avail. The fire consuming him grew hotter, and hotter. Passed the point of unbearable, a bright light flashed in his vision. He cried out again, begging for a release...
XxX
Drenched in sweat, Soda sat up quickly. His sleepy, aching body protested the quick movement as he breathed heavily. Relaxing a bit, he listened to the usual beeping of various monitors stationed around him. He smeared his face into his hands.
"It's just a dream. It's okay, you're fine." Soda spoke to himself, controlling his mind. It wasn't just a dream, not really. His brain couldn't let go of the past, though that was nearly two months ago. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his toes met the cool, sterile tile. As he slipped out of the bed, an involuntary whimper escaped his lips.
Heading towards the little bathroom attached to his room, he pulled at his slowly growing hair. It hadn't been buzzed since he was discharged and sent to the hospital, so it was longer than usual. Tearing the bathroom door open, Soda went over and turned on the sink. He doused his sweaty face with water, taking a deep breath. This routine was starting to be a regular thing.
Soda looked up, met with the same face that's been staring back at him for the last month. It resembled one he's looked at millions of times, but wasn't the same. Along his left cheekbone, the once smooth skin became scarred and flawed. A raw burn ran along the side of his face, sweeping his bare collarbone and chest. If the mirror was long enough, he'd see the pattern continue. It was disappear down the left side to the waistband of his pants.
To him, the reflection staring back at him was ugly. It was a sign of war and violence; the markings of something that stole away his innocence. To Soda, the dark marks were impossible to overlook. The nurses and doctors swore the burns did not scar badly. Everyone said it could have been worse. What was worse to them, though? Dead?
Two months ago, that would be the worse thing that could happen to him. After he'd been drafted, all Soda cared about was getting home. But, that was before he got into a tangle with some explosives. Though he couldn't remember the accident, Soda had the pleasure of being filled in plenty of times. Long story short: the enemy had the upper hand. He and a few men marched right into an explosion. Only two others, besides himself, made it out alive.
After that, death was the most appealing deal. Suffering from third and fourth degree burns and a couple broken bones, Soda found himself stuck in the hospital. He was reaching the one and a half month marking. Finally, the doctors finished with his skin grafts. He needed the surgery preformed in three different areas. But, now the blisters were gone and all but his wrist cast was off. Soda was just left with the harsh scars of his burns. They ran across the left side of his body and most of his back. The skin was tight, raw and sore. Within time, the feeling would subside.
Dropping his gaze down and away from his reflection, he twisted the water off and headed out the door. He wasn't too surprised to find a nurse already in there. It had to be around seven in the morning, and that was the usual time for his meds.
"Good morning, Mr. Curtis." The cheery nurse, one he's seen before, greeted. She was a petite young woman, blonde, and a little ditzy. In all honesty, she was probably someone he would've been all over beforehand. And if Two-Bit was here, Soda knew he'd be drooling over the naïve nurse's cleavage that flashed through the top of her not-so-buttoned up dress. Now, her sugary sweetness was almost bothersome.
"It's Soda." He corrected for the millionth time, sinking back down on the bed. Mr. Curtis. Despite the times he insisted on being called Sodapop, it never happened. The nurse seemed to pay no mind to him anyway, dusting her hands off on the front of her uniform.
"We've got a date!" Announcing this, the woman clasped her hands together enthusiastically. When Soda gave no reaction or response, she continued. "A release date. Dr. Meyer is very impressed with you recovery. About a month from today, your treatment'll be done, and you'll be discharged again."
Almost snorting at her choice of words, Soda nodded his head. He muttered a thanks, simply not to be rude, but didn't pursue any conversation. Discharged again. Like being discharged from the hospital was like being discharged from the military. Gingerly laying back, a low whimper escaped his lip. No, it definitely wasn't the same.
Still, he did have a date to look forward to. After all this time overseas and under the knife, he was finally free to go home. The only question he had left was where home was. Before being drafted, Soda and Steve rented an apartment together. As far as letters went, Steve never said anything about having to move and always sent them from the same address. Then, there was back with Darry. In the letters sent from his brothers, they talked like he'd come back there. And honestly, Soda never really thought about it.
A lot change there, that he knew. Over two years went by since he left Tulsa. Pony was a senior now, Darry had a serious girlfriend. Running a hand down the right side of his face, Soda held in an aggravated sigh. It wasn't like he expected his entire family to stop their lives until he returned, if he came back. He just felt so frustrated that so much happened while he was gone. Hell, Steve wrote saying he proposed to Evie, and Two-Bit said he had a job!
And then there was Lisa. Glory, nothing surprised Soda more than the fact that she stayed around. He meet her a year before deployment. Her car broke down on the side of the road, and he happened to be around. The girl was wild, and they hit it off instantly. Soda would be a liar if he said thinking of her bright, hazel eyes and deep brown hair didn't help him in 'Nam. She was tough, hardly cried when she heard the news. Soda figured it would last a month, tops. But Lisa stuck it through, and as far as he knew, the crazy broad was still there for him. The thought nearly made him smile.
"... I'll leave you be then, Mr. Curtis. Pills and water are on the table. You know how to reach us." Apparently Nurse Sunshine tried to hold a conversation, but Soda was too lost in thought to notice. She flashed him a grin, dusting her hands off one more time before turning out the door. Soda murmured his goodbye, no more social that he usually was here. Lifting the Dixie cup from his bedside table, he pushed the pills into his mouth, chasing them down with water. And with that, he muttered in reassurance.
"Just one more month, Sodapop. You can do this."
Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.
A/N: So, here is the beginning. I decided to do this a little differently, and I hope you enjoyed it. Again, I know this whole war theme is a little 'Been there, done that', and I'm hoping this will not be a Plain Jane story. All I want to prologue to do is summarize what happened within the twenty-six months he was away for. I hope it wasn't confusing or anything, and explained everything well enough. The opening in a little on the short side, but it is just a prologue. Updates will not be put out on any sort of schedule. Criticism and opinions are always welcome! Thank you.